


When the Worst Comes to Pass

by Loafy_Loaf



Series: Wlw (Witches loving witches) [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hogwarts, I love Hogwarts AUs and being sad I guess, Kinda, Post-Hogwarts, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7342615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loafy_Loaf/pseuds/Loafy_Loaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaw knew what her sacrifice entailed. Her Auror training and expertise with Occlumency would ensure her team's safety. She was fully prepared to die. But then Greer messes with her only coping mechanism: her past. Unable to discern reality from simulated memory, Shaw can only live her life a second time. But her purpose remains the same: keep them all safe. </p><p>PostHogwarts!TeamMachine AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Worst Comes to Pass

“Crucio.”

  
All of Shaw’s muscles tensed excruciatingly in response to the invasive, torturing magic. Despite her astounding pain tolerance developed from her Auror training, she would have screamed in agony if her jaw hadn’t locked up. She writhed on the floor, unable to escape her own suffering body. In that moment, her world was reduced to only pain. But then again, that was a good thing in a way. They couldn’t get information from her if all she knew was pain.

  
Suddenly, the curse lifted, leaving her panting on the floor. Shaw bit her tongue, trying to ground herself quickly. She closed her eyes and, like every other time before, imagined a pair of teasing eyes and a mischievous smirk.

  
Shaw heard her attacker walk towards her, and a swift kick sent her face jerking to the side. The image disappeared in a flash of red pain, but she dug her nails into her palms and focused back to her safe place. The only place they couldn’t touch her.

  
“This is pointless,” a bored voice whined from the corner of a room, “She hasn’t cracked in two months. Don’t you know that insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results?” Shaw grounded her teeth and closed her eyes even tighter. Jeremy Lambert. Her chest filled with hot anger, almost revitalizing her. However, she laid still, resisting the almost primal urge to rip out his throat. She should “enjoy” this short reprieve while she still can.

  
“It’s a pity,” the figure above her replied, “We finally capture one, and she is the best Occlumens since Severus Snape.” Martine Rousseau, who was a skilled Legimens, didn’t bother to hide the contempt and bitterness in her voice.

  
“And we know forcing her tongue is no use,” Jeremy repeated. “So. What do we do?”

  
They both stared at each other for a heartbeat before the door opened, sending echoing creaks down the dungeon halls.

  
“…Father,” Jeremy murmured.

  
Shaw’s eyes snapped open. She stared at the face of Samaritan, the leader of the terrorist group set on resurrecting their fallen Dark Lord: a Deatheaters 2.0.

  
“Good morning, my dear Sameen,” Greer greeted, ignoring his bastard son, “I see you’ve received your daily wake-up call.”

  
“The complimentary breakfast better be worth it,” Shaw said, struggling with the words. She slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, her glare never wavering. God, she couldn’t wait for the day she could get her hands on this asshole. She’d make sure his death was excruciatingly slow and intimately painful, Azkaban be damned.

  
“Unfortunately, we must skip breakfast today. There is a matter of utmost importance that I would like you to attend to.”

  
“Take a number,” Shaw grumbled, spitting the blood from her split lip to the ground before Greer’s feet.

  
Jeremy lunged forward, probably to beat her for her insolence, but Greer held up his hand and stilled him.

“Now, now, Sameen. This will be a real treat, I promise. For all of us.”

  
In the next half hour, Sameen was hoisted by a few grunts and dragged into a spacious room. Inside, there were a few chairs surrounding…a Pensieve?

  
“You have been quite a worthy opponent in our battle of wills, Ms. Shaw. But perhaps it is time for a different strategy,” Greer explained with a condescending smile.

  
“You going to make me watch your pathetic childhood embarrassments?” Shaw asked, looking unaffected.

  
Greer’s smile widened. “Actually, Sameen. These memories are yours.”

  
For the first time in weeks, Shaw looked at Greer with neither anger nor indifference, but rather confusion. There was no way that they could have extracted her memories. Not with her mental barriers.

  
Greer chuckled. “You’ll see soon enough.”

  
Suddenly, Shaw was pushed into the Pensieve, and all she could see was a blue whirlpool.

 

* * *

 

The crack of displaced air startled Shaw into consciousness. She shot up into a sitting position. “What the fuck?” she cursed. She rubbed her eyes to get rid of the sleepy blurriness from her vision. Then she scowled at her partner’s worried face.

  
“You need to get up. Now,” Cole said. He jumped over her bed and waved his wand, sending her clothes flying from her drawers and into a suitcase.

  
“What’s going on?” she said as she jumped out of bed, pulling on a pair of jeans over her boxers. Cole was the only one who could apparate within her magical wards, and he only ever did so in case of an emergency.

  
“The Ministry is on a manhunt for you.”

  
Shaw paused for a second before she finished pulling her shirt over her tank top. “Why?”

  
Cole shrunk the suitcase and put it in her emergency duffel bag. Zipping it shut, he handed it to her. “Shaw. They know.”

  
Shaw cursed. She had been so careful. But, then again, it’s been years. Someone was bound to find out. Throwing on her coat and accepting the bag, Shaw placed a hesitant hand on her partner’s shoulder. “…It’s been good working with you, Cole.”

  
Cole grinned at his Auror partner. “Don’t get too sentimental on me, Shaw.”

  
Suddenly, an explosion rocked the house. They could hear shouting outside.

  
“Go. I’ll hold them off,” Cole said.

  
Shaw stared at him in disbelief. “Cole. No. They’ll kill you.”

  
“They can track Portkeys now, and you know that. If I don’t mask your magical trail, they’ll just capture you. And that means I would have put my neck out for no reason.”

  
“Cole, please.” There was a foreign itch between her eyes, but Shaw ignored it.

  
“Shaw. I have no family left. And you…you mean a lot to me. We both know how much.”

  
Shaw stayed silent. She did know.

  
“Goodbye, Sameen.” Cole sprinted out of her room, chanting incantations to support the wards for a few more precious moments.

  
Determined to not waste her friend’s sacrifice, Shaw ran into her closet and pulled out a shoebox. Lifting the lid of the box, Shaw stared at its banal contents. Inside was her emergency Portkey: an old Order of Lenin medal. For a moment, Shaw remembered blonde hair and a determined promise, but she quickly refocused to the task at hand.

  
Just as she was about to grasp the medal, Shaw paused.

  
…Something wasn’t right.

  
Her heart rate increased as the ruckus outside grew louder, this time accompanied by Cole’s shouts. But nevertheless, her instincts told her to stop. Something didn’t feel right. Once she grabbed this Portkey, she would be transported to her safe place…

  
Shaw’s eyes widened, and she threw the box away from her. That medal would transport her to a safe place, which held the hidden base of her future team.

  
But…how would she know the future? What was going on?

  
Every sense of reason screamed at her to run to her Portkey and figure out what was happening later, but she resisted. Looking around, she finally paid attention to her surroundings. This wasn’t her apartment. Never was, in fact. There were striking similarities, yes, but she didn’t have white sheets at the time. Nor did her apartment have carpet. These were unimportant details in the face of an impending capture and death sentence, but Shaw forced her muddled head to comb through her memory anyway.

  
…She was a part of a team. This team was gathered to find and destroy the Resurrection Stone. She was the latest member to join. Once she grabbed that Portkey, she would have been transported to a place that had been converted into a base in the years since she had visited it last. Of course, that’s because the only other person who knew about this place suggested it…

  
Fragments of memories flashed before Shaw’s eyes. Meeting Team Machine. Stopping criminals, muggle or otherwise. A break-in into the Ministry. A manual button, warded against magic. A kiss. A scream. Then Martine’s damn face and her pointed wand.

  
Suddenly, Shaw’s surroundings spun around her, turning into the silvery blue of memories. Next thing she knew, she was lying on the ground of that bare room, gasping as if she had been submerged under water. She looked up at Greer’s disappointed face.  
“I suppose the first trial was likely to be a failure. We will try again tomorrow. First thing.”

  
Shaw placed her head on the cold stone, waiting to be dragged back to her prison. She tried to steady her breathing to prevent herself from vomiting. She didn’t know how, but they’ve found a way to violate and torture her on a completely new level. She could have sworn that fake memory was reality. Cole felt real. The urgency felt real. If she couldn’t even trust her own mind…

  
Hell was real, and Shaw was living it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends. I hope you've enjoyed what you've read so far. Please yell at me, it will help with my motivation to update.


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